the world that falls in rags
A life spent in coins leave stains on hands. Trade rusts through skin to reclaim its bones.
breaths are drawn for copper.
Fabric rips in the eyes of merchants as it loses its threads faster than smiles spread amongst crooks.
Fears are numbed by the touch of money, promises slip from ambition. Wealth grows from lies placed beneath the feet of those that tread the skin of this city and shred its silk to rags.
last minute seconds
Visions slip through hands that lose their grip in thought
Time creeps into its remains filling the cracks in whispers
a hope scrapes against its skin until light permits its fall.
Hours crack like thunder,
words cleanse as rain
and we rise against the urban sky to
blossom freely as a second city
born from the sting of the last,
sown with rebellious seeds.